


auld lang syne

by thunderylee



Category: KAT-TUN (Band), Kanjani8 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2019-01-22 11:18:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12480336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: It’s been so long that the hatred is automatic upon sight or mention.





	auld lang syne

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

For Johnny’s, the New Year is celebrated a few days later, when there are no cameras or screaming fangirls. Ryo would like to say there are no sparkles or sequins, either, but that is sadly not the case. Yamapi has both on his scarf, half of which is wrapped around Tegoshi’s cornrows, making him look like an African princess.

And Ryo’s only on his first beer. He’d been late to the party, since Eito had just returned to Tokyo and Ryo spent the entire day passed out on Ohkura’s couch. If Ryo and Ohkura only have each other for motivation, they will never move. Ohkura even tips the delivery people extra to walk through his apartment and hand him the food in bed. Ryo wouldn’t be surprised if his favorite place to order from had his spare key.

Everyone in the goddamn agency is here. It’s Kimura’s house, so there’s plenty of space for a large group of men to congregate and get drunk. Some women are scattered about (not Kimura’s wife, because she knows better and took their girls away for the weekend), but they’re not really the point of this gathering. Most Johnny’s aren’t interested in women anyway.

Speaking of women, Kamenashi is sashaying over to him, bottle in hand, and nearly falls on Ryo’s lap as he pulls at his arm. “Your presence is requested outside,” he’s slurring.

“It’s fucking cold outside,” Ryo replies. “My presence is just fine in here.”

“Promised Takuya-senpai,” Kame gasps out, “ _outside_.”

Ryo raises an eyebrow. “Is Jin throwing up in the bushes already? It’s Pi’s year to watch him, not mine.”

Kame wrinkles his nose at the mention of Jin. “Come on, let’s go.”

Reluctantly Ryo heaves himself up off the couch, only because he’d rather be cold than smothered by a drunk Kame. On the way, he catches Yoko’s eye and realizes how bad this looks, him being dragged around by Kame who can’t even walk straight, and by the time they reach the back door he’s positive that all of Eito think they’re going to hook up. Ryo hopes that they would think he has better taste than that, but he also knows that it’s a lost cause.

He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it, though, because he’s thrown out into the cold without a jacket and immediately punched in the face. It takes him a second to focus, handing Kame his beer to hold (although he just starts drinking it) while he lifts his hand to his mouth and identifies his assaulter.

It’s Ueda. Ryo’s eyes immediately narrow, rage filling him from head to toe. It’s been so long that the hatred is automatic upon sight or mention, but this time he’d actually been provoked. And he doesn’t care if Ueda looks like a boy now, he’s still a dumb girl with ugly lips and Ryo hates his face.

“I’ve wanted to do that for ten years,” Ueda says. “Happy New Year, Nishikido.”

Ryo sets his jaw, winces at the pain, and pounces. He’s nowhere near as good of a boxer as Ueda, but he can wrestle with the best of them and soon they’re rolling around on the (cold, cold) ground, screaming and hitting and kicking. Koki and most of Kisumai who had been toking up behind the house start cheering, taking bets on the winner while Kame’s drunkenly commentating every move into his phone.

Fighting is a lot like fucking, Ryo realizes. There’s a rush of adrenaline and a race to win, his entire focus on the other person and their reactions. Only instead of wanting to make Ueda feel good, he wants to kick his ass. They scrap for a long time, both sweating despite the negative degree temperature, and all Ryo hears is the sounds of their brawl and the resulting grunts.

As they both run out of energy, but are too stubborn to stop, Ryo thinks they’re a lot alike. He must have taken too many blows to the head, becoming delusional enough to wonder what it would be like if they hadn’t have had that dumb feud so many years ago. Even Ryo thinks it’s dumb, and he’s the one who started it. He was also a teenager at the time.

Suddenly Ueda stops, unresponsive as Ryo pins him down to the ground, and for a second Ryo actually believes he knocked him out. Then he looks down at Ueda’s eyes that are wide open, only a little bruised and staring up at him with no expression.

“Go ahead,” Ueda sputters, a little bit of blood on the corner of his thick lips. Seems Ryo had gotten a good hit in. “Finish me off.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Ryo asks, his own mouth dry. “Why did you even start this?”

“You started this, ten years ago,” Ueda says darkly. “I’m ending it. Right now. Punch me and get the fuck over it. I’d like to pass you in the hall without being on the receiving end of your stupid grudge.”

“You could have just _said_ something,” Ryo grumbles, wincing again. “Fuck, my jaw hurts every time I talk.”

Ueda glares at him. “So shut up.”

Ryo feels like he just got done running a marathon, but without a finish line at the end. His nerves are still on edge, with enough energy to run even more, his heart racing and pounding in his ears. He feels Ueda’s hands on his biceps, but not until they loosen from gripping him so tightly. Now they’re just resting on Ryo’s arms, heavy and warm on the long sleeves of his sweater and Ryo watches Ueda take a deep breath below him. It ignites a reaction in him that should be the absolute _last_ thing he’s feeling right now, and he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on anymore.

His eyes drop to Ueda’s lips, which a shiny tongue darts out to moisten, and that’s all the consent Ryo needs. Ueda doesn’t even flinch when he closes the distance between them, just curls his fingers into Ryo’s sweater and kisses him back like he’s wanted to do that for ten years, too. The possibility has Ryo licking his way into Ueda’s mouth, which is hot and tastes like amaretto sour with a hint of blood, the combination seeming to get Ryo drunk by proxy.

He ignores the cold, ignores Fujigaya’s gleeful shout of “pay up, suckers!” as well as his past decade of history with Ueda, and slides his hands up into Ueda’s short hair, feeling the strands between his fingers as Ueda loops his arms around Ryo’s back. Then Ryo forgets how to breathe and has to tear his mouth away, gasping for air while Ueda holds him up and gives him an amused look.

“Now that we’ve kissed and made up, can we go back inside?” Ryo gasps. “I don’t like you enough to catch pneumonia.”

Ueda just laughs and pushes Ryo off of him, stumbling to get to his feet and reaching a hand out for Ryo. Ryo takes it and allows himself to be led through a sea of drunken catcalls to the upstairs bathroom, where they both tend to each other’s wounds and give each other a hard time when they whine about it hurting.

“You put up a good fight, Nishikido,” Ueda says cryptically. “Let’s never do it again.”

“Yes,” Ryo answers, leaning in to kiss around the cotton on Ueda’s mouth. “And call me Ryo.”


End file.
